


A Brief Encounter

by christinefromsherwood, soufflegirl91



Category: James Bond (Craig movies)
Genre: First Date, Fluff and Humor, Getting Together, M/M, Misunderstandings, Post-Skyfall, Q's Cat - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-18
Updated: 2020-10-18
Packaged: 2021-03-09 02:41:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,752
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27077413
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/christinefromsherwood/pseuds/christinefromsherwood, https://archiveofourown.org/users/soufflegirl91/pseuds/soufflegirl91
Summary: “And so I uploaded a message to all Q-branch computers: ‘I don’t know who you are. I don't know what you want. If you are looking to get a new microwave I can tell you I don't have money, but what I do have is a very particular set of skills’.”Pausing, Q grinned at him before continuing with his terrible Liam Neeson impression:“‘Skills I have acquired over a very long career. Skills that make me a nightmare for people like you. If you stop exploding scrambled eggs in the microwave now, that'll be the end of it. I will not look for you, I will not pursue you, but if you don't, Iwilllook for you, I will find you and I will kill you.’ And then I left for the weekend, and on Monday Internal Investigations called me in to ‘explain myself’, which I did, but they don’t have any sense of humor, so not only did they recommend I ‘take a short holiday’ but they strongly suggested we won’t be seeing a new microwave in the nexttwoyearsat least.”It’s shaping up to be the perfect post-first-date evening. Or is it?
Relationships: James Bond/Q
Comments: 18
Kudos: 166
Collections: Mi6 Cafe Prompt Fills





	A Brief Encounter

**Author's Note:**

  * For [storm_of_sharp_things](https://archiveofourown.org/users/storm_of_sharp_things/gifts).



> ## HAPPY BIRTHDAY, STORM!
> 
> #### Many happy returns! May all your things and eyes remain sharp! May you become as old as the Fangorn Forest!
> 
> We hope you like this. 💖🎂✨💖

Stopping the car in front of a darkened house, James turned his full attention to Q next to him. 

“And so I uploaded a message to all Q-branch computers: ‘I don’t know who you are. I don't know what you want. If you are looking to get a new microwave, I can tell you I don't have money, but what I do have is a very particular set of skills’.”

Pausing, Q grinned at him before continuing with his terrible Liam Neeson impression:

“‘Skills I have acquired over a very long career. Skills that make me a nightmare for people like you. If you stop exploding scrambled eggs in the microwave now, that'll be the end of it. I will not look for you, I will not pursue you, but if you don't, I _will_ look for you, I will find you and I will kill you.’ And then I left for the weekend, and on Monday Internal Investigations called me in to ‘explain myself’, which I did, but they don’t have any sense of humor, so not only did they recommend I ‘take a short holiday’ but they strongly suggested we won’t be seeing a new microwave in the next _two_ years _at least_.” 

He turned to James, green eyes sparkling in the soft light from the streetlamp just outside, and James suddenly realised what the strange pulling in his cheeks was: he’d been grinning wide the whole time.

Had been the whole evening, in fact. Ever since he had knocked on Q’s door ten minutes earlier than their agreed time, and Q had opened it even before the knock ended, dressed sharply, and blurted out: “Oh thank God, you’re here! I didn't want to get cat hair on these trousers, so I’ve been jogging around the kitchen for the past twenty minutes.”

Frowning suddenly, Q looked out the window. “Oh! We’re here already!” 

It might have been his wishful thinking, but James thought he sounded disappointed. He cleared his throat. 

“I know a place that makes an excellent fry up,” he offered, trying for a conversational, non-eager tone. “You haven’t told me what happened with 003 in Azerbaijan, yet.” 

“Well, I would hate to ruin a lovely evening with talk of 003, but you could come in for a drink, if you’d like?” James had no chance to tamp down his smile at the invitation; Q’s eyes twinkled behind his glasses when he continued: “I can tell you all about the time Tanner ended up in the decontamination shower.” 

“How could I say no to an offer like that?” James waggled his eyebrows exaggeratedly, squirming away when it made Q roll his eyes and poke him in the ribs. 

Outside, the night air was pleasantly cool against his face as they walked side by side up to Q’s door, the sleeves of their jackets rustling when their hands brushed together. 

Pausing in front of the gate and tilting his head, Q narrowed his eyes at him. “Don’t get your hopes up, it won’t be champagne or a fancy martini.”

James nodded sagely. “Earl Grey, I assume?”

“That, or orange squash.”

“Well,” James pretended to mull it over, delighting in the easy grin Q was giving him, the playful challenge in his eyes as he leaned against the post, waiting for James’s response. “Much as I love your orange squash, I think I’ll have to go with the tea.” 

“Oh good,” Q grinned at him before turning to put his key in the lock, “I don’t actually _have_ any orange squash.” 

"Well, that's a relief." James grinned. "I'm not sure I'd want this evening to end with you trying to poison me. Again."

The door swung open just as Q reached out and wrapped his slender fingers around James’s palm. Warmth spreading up to the tips of his ears, James followed behind with Q’s soft laughter singing in his ears.

* * *

_James reached for the bottle in Q’s outstretched hand as the treadmill slowed to a halt._

_“Much better than last time, but I suppose you don’t have radioactive bullet fragments in your shoulder now. Not quite back at your personal best, but you’ll pass.”_

_Oh, thank god! James had been stuck in London for weeks. M--the_ new _M--had taken one look at him after he’d returned from Scotland and told him that until he could pass the full battery of requalification tests, he wasn’t going anywhere._

_“Well, that’s something.” James rested his forearms on one of the bars of the treadmill, waiting for his heart rate to settle a little before he had a drink. “Now, if you could just tell that thing-” he gestured to Q’s tablet“ -that I’ve passed the psych evaluation…”_

_“Nice try, Bond,” Q rolled his eyes with a familiar smirk. “You’ll have to pass that one yourself. Just… don’t tell them what you’re really thinking.”_

_The one upside of all this forced downtime was that it had given James a chance to get to know this new Quartermaster better. Q’s wry sense of humour could give even James a run for his money, and most of their encounters had been unexpectedly delightful._

_James had to suppress a smile when he remembered Q’s contrite apologies as he tried to disentangle his cat’s claws from James’s coat fabric. A loud bang in the next room had scared the poor animal and James had apparently appeared in the doorway at just the right moment to serve as the best place for Caty Perry to vault herself to safety, ‘you know, like up a tree’. Or so Q had explained with a quick, almost imperceptible glance at James’s thighs._

_James allowed himself a smug grin at the memory before returning to the conversation at hand. “But Q, they do insist on asking how I feel. Who am I to hold it back from them?” He felt a flutter of triumph at Q’s derisive snort, and hid his own grin by taking a sip from the bottle._

_He gagged, trying desperately to rid the taste from his mouth._

_“Q, what the fuck is this?!”_

_It was quite possibly the most disgusting thing he’d ever had to drink, and that was including that one time when he got stuck in the Congo Rainforest._

_Q rolled his eyes. “Oh, don’t be such a child, Bond! It’s orange squash.”_

_“Made with what, chicken stock? I hate to break this to you, Q, but orange squash shouldn’t be salty.”_

_“...Ah.” Q’s cheeks were suddenly tinged with pink, and he was blinking even more than usual._

_“Q…. please tell me you didn’t_ actually _make this with chicken stock.” Really, just as James had been beginning to admire Q’s… brain. Definitely brain. No other admiring going on here._

_“Don’t be ridiculous, 007. It’s just… well, we were out of Powerade, and I read that you could make your own electrolyte drinks by adding salt to fruit cordial. It looks like I might have overdone it on the salt.”_

_“Just a bit,” James acknowledged with a grimace, trying his best to turn it into a grin. The Dead Sea was less salty than Q’s concoction, and James should know, having once spent an hour chasing a mark in there. Still, it had been a while since anyone had gone out of their way to do something so nice for him, so he wasn’t about to look a gift horse in the mouth._

_There were red splotches on Q’s neck when he shrugged awkwardly and turned around. “Let’s just… go and get you a glass of water, shall we? The kitchen’s only down the corridor, and I wanted to talk to you about your options.”_

_“Options?” James drew a blank. Q had just told him he’d pass the physical. Surely, they weren’t thinking of putting him out to pasture?_

_Nodding, Q gestured him through the door. “Your housing options. I’ve been through the list you sent.”_

_Oh._ Those _options._

_“I see. Any good?” In one corner of the kitchenette, the watercooler container sparkled like the rarest of sapphires. James had to stop himself from running towards it and drinking straight from the tap._

_Instead, he casually strolled over to the cupboard and pulled out a glass as Q scrolled back and forth on his tablet, expounding on the topic of James’s future accommodation: “I ruled a few out. Too difficult to secure parking or add a safe room without anyone noticing. There were four that would work, though. I’ve emailed them back to you.”_

_Oh, how the times had changed. Gone were the days of being out on your arse when you got back from a mission. Now, the Quartermaster oversaw your security arrangements and you got a bloody panic room._

_“Did any stand out?” James asked, taking a sip and trying to appear focused while his body sang of the sweet release a single sip of water brought to his abused taste buds. Q shrugged again._

_“I’m sure you’ll pick whichever one you like best, 007.”_

_When nothing else appeared to be forthcoming, James pressed a little._

_“I want to know which one_ you _like best.”_

_Q flushed for the second time in this conversation, and James marvelled at the way even the tips of his ears were tinged pink, peeking out from under that mop of unruly curls._

_“Well,” Q gave James a long, inscrutable look, as if deciding something before continuing, “one of them is actually just around the corner from me. It would be… convenient.”_

_“Convenient,” James parroted. The idea of having Q just around the corner was sorely tempting._

_Q nodded. “For… security. And fitting that safe room.”_

_“Of course.”_

_Somehow, James had the feeling that_ that _wasn’t what Q had meant at all. He let that feeling warm him all the way through as he threw his head back and finished his water in one long, palate-cleansing gulp._

* * *

In the hallway, James savoured the lingering touch as their hands separated, so they could take off their jackets. 

Throwing his on the coat hanger, Q grinned at him. “The heat’s off, so feel free to take yours with you. Just keep in mind that Perry _will_ get her paws on it and there will be cat hair.” 

James eyed his Barbour jacket. The waxed cotton was supposed to be able to withstand all manner of English weather, but he wasn’t quite sure if he wanted to subject it to the tender mercies of Q’s cat. 

“Did you turn the heat off, or is it broken again?” he asked as he placed his jacket next to Q’s. 

“I turned it off last week. And then I spent yesterday evening in a thick sweater and socks,” Q said as he toed off his shoes. “I’m glad I’ve got Perry to keep me warm at night. The weather’s been crazy.” 

James nodded and followed Q through the door, holding back his offer to volunteer as someone who could keep Q warm at night. In the morning. During lunchtime and all through to dinner.

* * *

_Should go shopping, James mused, before taking a sip of his coffee and promptly spitting it out into the sink._

_“The fuck?!” he groaned. He wasn’t sure if it was the filter paper, or the coffee, or both those things that combined to create the vilest tasting drink possible._

_Wiping his mouth, he stared outside the window at the fat snowflakes that fell steadily to the ground. James now regretted abandoning his phone with that Q branch tech the night before. He’d just wanted to collapse somewhere and sleep and couldn’t be arsed to wait around while that woman extracted the files. But no phone meant no deliveries._

_Grinding his teeth on his toast, James considered his options. No deliveries meant going out into the storm, and getting his less than stellar mobility caught on CCTV._

_He still remembered the time when the sight of snow made him smile. Now though, a falling barometer meant a creaky knee and a dull stabbing in the right shoulder. His jaw and left elbow also weren’t a fan._

_Which is how James had known that it had snowed overnight without needing to see outside his window. The last thing he’d wanted to do was crawl out of bed, but after getting in late last night, he’d passed out in it too quickly to make himself any kind of food, and if there was anything more miserable than hurting all over, it was hurting all over on an empty stomach. So crawled out of bed he had and-_

_“The fuck?!” The sound of the doorbell made him spill the rest of his coffee on his coat._

_Wrapped up in his Burberry and missing his old, comfortable dressing gown, James hobbled over to the door. With one hand on a gun, he opened the door to a gust of wind and a small pile of wool that gave him a nervous wave._

_“Hi!” Q said._

_James blinked and looked again. It_ was _Q! In a ridiculous knitted hat, with a large meowing crate in his hands._

_“My heat went out,” he announced, shuffling the crate into his other hand. James stared, then wordlessly stepped to the side when Q began to move up the steps towards him._

_“They refused to come repair it today. Apparently, it’s_ ‘Sunday,”’ _Q spat out, shrugging out of his boots and tiptoeing around the puddles that had begun to form under them. “Also, did I know it was snowing? And I can’t possibly expect them to send someone out in the snow!” He grumbled his way out of his coat, and continued through the hallway into James’s kitchen._

_Following after him, James took his time with each step, taking care not to let the pain in his knee show._

_“I hope you don’t mind,” Q continued, setting the cat carrier in the corner of the kitchen, “but we would have frozen in there. And I would have gone to the office, but yours is closer, so…” Reaching for the kettle, Q stopped suddenly and trailed off, cheeks still pink from the cold. “Er… Sorry.”_

_Leaning against the doorway to rest his leg, James took in the sight of Q bending down to coo at his cat, who was batting unhappily at the grate of her carrier. For some reason, that managed to unclench something that had twisted itself up painfully inside him at the first glimpse of snow that day. It was probably only partially the way Q’s trousers hugged his arse._

_He must have been silent too long because suddenly Q was standing up and making to pick the carrier up again. “Oh shit, I hadn’t even considered. You probably have plans. I can call a cab to take us to the office-”_

_“No.” James had had no plans except for barricading himself in his house until the snow stopped and he no longer resembled a constipated geriatric when he walked. Company had been the last thing he’d wanted, but now that Q was here, he couldn’t quite make himself tell him to leave. “You should stay.”_

_There was only one problem._

_“I don’t have any tea,” he said. “Or food.”_

_“I thought you might not.” Q grinned. “I ordered some. Somehow delivery people go where repairmen fear to tread.”_

_It turned out that_ some _had been an understatement when the bell rang some thirty minutes later._

_Q had been preoccupied with watching Perry investigate her new surroundings, which was why James had only just managed to surreptitiously move over to the couch and now had to suppress the “Go fuck yourself on a flaming cactus!” at the idea that he’d have to get up and go all the way to the front door again._

_“I’ll go get it,” Q announced and suddenly James found his hands full with a warm wriggly cat. “Would you watch her? I don’t want to have to chase her down in the snow.”_

_Then he was off collecting James’s groceries before James even had a chance to wonder at how extraordinarily well this had worked out for him. Maneuvering around four squirming limbs, he began to scratch the underside of Perry’s jaw._

_The cat meowed her agreement before closing her eyes and stretching her neck greedily._

_By the time the front door closed, Perry manipulated James into giving her an ear massage. She was purring loudly, tickling James’s forearms with her whiskers, as he stroked around her ears to the rhythm of her feet kneading his stomach. She didn’t move a muscle when Q shouldered his way inside the room with two heavy bags in each hand._

_Q threw them a quick grin before turning to the kitchen counter. He didn’t go so far as to start putting the groceries away, instead he pulled a box of tea out of one bag and refilled the kettle._

_James didn’t make a move from his seat on the couch. He kept petting the cat, watching Q move around his kitchen with the tips of his ears turning progressively more and more red._

_“I didn’t make it up, you know,” he said finally when the kettle boiled. Perry had curled herself into an impossible position, pushing her face into James’s armpit. At the sound of Q’s voice, she raised her head and mrowed unhappily. “About the heat being broken.”_

_James hummed as he caught her outstretched paw, preventing it from digging into his coat._

_“I didn’t think you had,” he replied. He had, however, while petting Q’s cat, considered whether he found it annoying or endearing that Q had managed to maneuver him into being able to sit and relax on what had promised to be a truly terrible and painful day._

_“Good.” Q nodded, handing him his tea. “Because I can see how it might seem really weird that I just barged in and ordered groceries, but I don’t see how me sitting in my freezing house and you having to walk in snow on that knee would have been any better.”_

_Cheeks flaming, he dropped on the couch next to James and stared determinedly in front of him until Perry noticed there was another pair of hands in the vicinity available for scritches. She climbed off James and settled next to him, rubbing her face against Q’ arm._

_“It was a perfectly reasonable plan,” James agreed, inhaling the pleasant scent of Earl Grey emanating from the cup in his hands._

_“Good.” Q nodded again._

_It wasn’t quite like ‘being taken care of’, James thought. There was none of that strange chafing. This felt good._

_“It’s a pain, but also really gorgeous, this kind of weather,” Q mused, turning to look out into the garden at the swirling snowflakes._

_James took a sip of his hot tea and followed his gaze. The ache in his joints seemed to have thawed slightly. Heavy snowflakes fell on the ground in one smooth blanket, and with the purring weight of Perry pressed against his thigh, James couldn’t help but agree._

* * *

“Where is the little fluff ball, anyway?” James glanced around Q’s tiny kitchen, seeing the half-empty food bowl at the foot of the cat tree. He had expected Perry to make her presence known when they walked in. Wasn’t that what cats did, announce their displeasure at being left alone and then ignore you when you’re home? 

“Off on an adventure, I’m sure. No doubt she’ll be back home soon to yell at me for neglecting her.” 

“Why Q, how could you,” James deadpanned, feeling warmth suffuse his chest at Q’s indelicate snort. 

“I know, I know, _such_ a terrible cat butler. You can go and sit down if you like? I’ll bring the tea through in a minute. Milk, no sugar, right?” 

He didn’t wait for James’s reply, as he strode into his kitchen. James tried to remember when he’d told Q how he liked his tea. He must have just noticed during one of their tea breaks in Q branch. 

Lingering just inside the doorway, James took in Q’s living room. Between two tall bookcases full of books, computer parts and a cat toy here and there stood a large flat-screen TV. There was a sofa opposite with a low coffee table, and an armchair by the window in the shape of a teacup. 

Q would expect him to actually be sitting down when he reappeared with the tea, not loitering in the middle of the room. But where to sit? If he sat on the sofa, would he seem too familiar? But if he sat in the armchair, would Q think James wasn’t interested? 

It was a dilemma.

“Do you want any biscuits?” Q’s voice interrupted his internal seating debate. “I’ve got chocolate digestives and ginger nuts.” 

The sofa was big enough, right? They would hardly be on top of each other. Plus, it was in easy reach of the coffee table. The armchair would just be awkward, over there in the corner. 

“Sure, why not,” he called back, “whichever you’d prefer.” 

Yes, he would sit on the sofa. And Q would never know that it took him the best part of 90 seconds to make that decision.

James smiled fondly at the bunched up throw in the corner by the left arm of the sofa. Clearly, this was one of Perry’s favourite spots. No doubt she would give them both an earful for moving her nest, but it was that or have one of them sit awkwardly in the middle. 

As he shook out the plaid blanket, he felt something soft land on his feet. Folding the throw over the arm of the sofa, he picked up the mystery scrap of fabric.

And stared at his own boxer briefs. 

Fighting the urge to throw them as far as possible, James blinked and peered closer to make sure. The two legs looked inconspicuous enough, the crotch area also wasn’t anything out of the ordinary. But high on the edge, where the right hip bone should be, there was a spot of discoloration which could only be from the blood that had oozed down James’s side after they’d grazed him in Oslo.

Those were _his_ boxer briefs. Without a doubt. 

WHAT WERE THEY DOING IN Q’S HOUSE?

“I swear if this kettle was any slower, it’d be faster setting the water on the windowsill and letting the sun do the job,” came exasperatedly from the kitchen and James felt his heart speed up at the sound even as his mind whirled with possibilities.

He’d sleepwalked once for a week after returning from the Paris mission. Could it have returned? Had he been visiting Q’s house in the dead of night, stashing his underwear in strange places? Had Q invited him inside for some kind of an intervention? Had this whole evening-

No.

James took a deep breath. 

He would have known if he’d been sleepwalking. He had known before when he had to pick gravel and dirt from the soles of his feet. Which led to only one other solution…

Holding the boxer briefs at arms-length, he turned towards the kitchen. 

Q must have taken them. 

Q must have gone into James’s house, and into his hamper--James didn’t remember washing these--and _stolen_ this pair of boxer briefs. And maybe others. Maybe that’s where his bamboo fibre socks had gone!

James threw a wild look at his surroundings. Nothing about the room said that there were piles of underwear contraband hiding all over. But then again, nothing about Q said that he was the sort of person who would do such a thing!

James thought back to Q’s eyes smiling at him across the table at the restaurant as James refilled his glass and told him about his now-lost records collection. How Q waved his arms around in the car and ran his fingers through his hair as he told his story. How well his palm fit into James’s as he led him to his door.

No, there was absolutely nothing about Q that would have led James to suspect he’d been _stealing his underwear_.

Sighing, James closed his eyes. 

He might have known, though. With his history. He might have suspected there would be some catch to someone as brilliant as Q being interested in him. 

“I’m sorry you had to wait so-” Q’s voice trailed off as James turned towards him, holding the boxer briefs up half in accusation, half in resignation. 

Q stood in the doorway, slowly turning red while his eyes jumped from James to the underwear in his hands. 

“Oh for fuck’s sake,” Q groaned, marching up towards the coffee table and setting down the tea cups. “This is so embarrassing, but I swear I’m not a slob and I don’t leave dirty underwear lying around. I have no idea what that’s doing here.”

James frowned. Of all the ways he’d thought Q might react, this was not one of them. 

“Oh, but-” Q stopped abruptly. “These aren’t mine!” 

“No, I know. They’re mine.”

“Are these- Did you just take them off? What the hell, James?!”

“What? No! Don’t turn this around on me! I found them in your sofa where _you_ put them!”

“I most certainly did not!”

“Well, then how did they get here, Q? I don’t make a habit of stashing my underwear in other people’s living rooms!”

“MRRRROOOOOW!” Caty Perry had apparently decided to make her presence known, imitating her namesake.

"Is this… did you _steal_ these when you came over because your boiler was broken?" James ignored the offended meowing, because some things were more important right now. 

"What? No!" Q parroted James's indignant response from a moment ago. How the tables had turned. "Why would I steal your dirty pants? What sort of creep do you take me for?!" 

James silently brandished the offending garment, as if it proved his point.

"Well, _I_ don't know where they-" 

"MMMMRRROOOOOOOWWWW!" There came another indignant cry from the window.

"-came from. Just a MINUTE, Perry!" 

James watched the way Q's long fingers tugged anxiously on his hair as he made his way over to the window. _No!_ He _mustn’t_ get distracted by the thought of sucking those digits into his mouth. Q had _stolen_ his underwear! There could be no sucking! 

"Come on, then, you spoiled- What the _fuck?"_

Q grabbed Perry and pulled her through the open window. 

And that’s when James saw it.

There. Clamped in Perry's jaw. Something white and lacy.

Was that-

"Jesus _Christ_ , Perry. Where did you find a _thong_?!"

James winced, as Q wrestled the delicate fabric from Perry with an audible tearing noise. 

Then, they were standing there. James ineffectually clutching his soiled boxers, Q clinging to the torn lace. 

Both of them staring at Caty Perry. 

Caty Perry, who, under the force of their gaze, decided now was an excellent time to start grooming herself. 

“James?” Q’s voice trembled.

“Yeah.”

“Help me move the sofa?”

Head buzzing with relief and a terrible premonition, James nodded and walked to the other side of the sofa. 

“MRROOOOOW!”

Together, they picked it up and set it down again, three feet closer to the window. 

Like a dragon, Perry jumped on her hoard, flopping down among dozens of boxers, briefs, bras, swimming trunks and one pair of cycling shorts. All under a thin blanket of cat hair. Perry wriggled around in it luxuriously before flipping over and slashing her tail. 

There was no doubt about it. This was the result of weeks, if not months of concentrated effort.

“MRROOOOOW!” Perry asserted and James privately agreed. This was, indeed, all hers. 

“How?!” Q croaked. “When?!”

Letting them fall, James surrendered his boxer briefs to the hoard before turning to put a hand on Q’s shoulder.

“Q,” he began, “this may be difficult to hear, but…” 

Shaking, Q turned to lean against him. Stroking his back soothingly, James pulled him into his arms.

“Your cat is a kleptomaniac.“ His own voice was shaking. “And I don’t think there’s a reha-ow!” He jumped when he felt Q’s knuckles against his ribs. He suppressed his laughter and continued: “Don’t worry, we’ll get her help.”

“Shut up. You thought I was stealing your underwear!” came muffled against his shoulder.

“And you thought I was taking my underwear off in your living room,” James replied. Q raised his head.

“Well, I had hoped that was the plan. Eventually.” 

Kissing while shaking with silent laughter was not easy. Still, somehow they managed. 

**Author's Note:**

> How was it? 😁 Let us know. 
> 
> And btw: if you think cat stealing people's underwear is just plain silly and cracky, let us point your attention to [this real life brief thief](https://n3ongold3n.tumblr.com/post/618900751346024448/justcatposts-hes-so-proud-of-his-haul). We were inspired by him and [the MI6 Cafe prompt. ](https://docs.google.com/spreadsheets/d/1LwtIoqppLgPC3D0bJ5HF7ZcIJEnNgGmQcm21977FGJc/edit#gid=751500026&range=A9)

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [A Brief Encounter - fanart](https://archiveofourown.org/works/27081811) by [MrKsan](https://archiveofourown.org/users/MrKsan/pseuds/MrKsan)




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